Bibbety, Bobbety, Boo: Ridiculous Wizard Tales
by Luinramwen
Summary: Take several classic fairy tales. Mix with the world of HP. Shake vigorously. Serve with the world's least useful witch...
1. Cinderella

A/N - What do you think you get if you changed the witches in those fairy tales you always listened to as a kid and gave the story an HP twist? This...

Oh yes, and btw, though I rarely name the witch whose stories these are, her name is Nada Luck. Lol. And the time period is about when Hogwarts was founded, and yes, I KNOW the language isn't really appropriate to the age. I apologize, but it's hard to write a parody of a fairy tale that is somewhat humourous in the formal language of old. It's the Disney version, too, since there are many different and more gruesome versions, so I'll use the one we're all familiar with.

Disclaimer - I don't own anything that even sounds like it belongs to the world of Harry Potter. Nor do I own those silly things called fairy tales. Nope. No Marauders, no fairy godmothers, zip. Why me? If JK's reading this, may I borrow the Marauders, at least until Book the Sixth is published? Please? Pretty please? I'll take good care of them - what they may do to my hometown is another story. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaasssseeee?!

*~*~*

I squinted into the flowerpot. "Out of Floo powder _again_? Damn. I'm going to be late for the party. Maybe I have some spare? Somewhere? Anywhere?" I started rummaging through cupboards and drawers. 

A pot of ink spilled and splattered all over my nice silvery-blue dress robes. Swearing under my breath, I pulled out my wand. "Evanesco."

Nothing happened. I tried again. No luck.

"Evanesco!" A little bit disappeared from one corner.

"EVANESCO!" I bellowed. Sometimes that's the only thing that works. The ink puddle disappeared with satisfying alacrity. Encouraged, I took on the ink stain on my robes.

"Scourgify!" Nothing.

"SCOURGIFY!" Nothing happened again.

"Scourgify?" I pleaded. The stain grew a shade lighter.

Maybe you've noticed by now. I'm not a very good witch. In fact, I'm almost a Squib. It's really embarrassing, but I'm learning to ignore the teasing. Only one of my taunters ended up in St. Mungo's this month.

I managed to get rid of the stain, finally, but I was really going to be late by then. I needed to get to the party - fast. That left one way - Apparating.

I groaned a bit. Oh, don't get me wrong. I can Apparate; I have my license and everything. But I only squeaked through the exam by the skin of my teeth and a lot of luck. I don't splich myself, but I'm still not very good at aiming. Sometimes I end up in the Sahara.

_Crack._

I had better luck this time. I only ended up in a different part of England. But I landed in the cellar of a Muggle girl who was wearing a ratty, patched dress, and who was crying like her best friend had just been cursed by Salazar Slytherin.

I tried to get out of there quickly, but she looked up and saw me before I could Disapparate. _Drat the luck!_

"Who - who are you?" she hiccoughed fearfully. "How did you get here? I -"

Then she saw my wand. Her face brightened immediately. "Are you my _fairy godmother_?" she breathed in awe, scrambling to her feet.

Fairy godmother? Had someone given her a Babbling Draught? What was she talking about? I thought about doing a quick Memory Charm and Apparating out of there, but to tell the truth, my Memory Charms are worse than my Cleaning charms. Cringing at the too-recent memories of my last attempt, I decided not to try. Which left nothing but to play along.

"Yes, I am your fairy godmother," I said imperiously, attempting to speak in a wispy, ethereal-yet-authorative tone that I supposed might sound like a Muggle's idea of a fairy godmother. It wasn't easy. "How may I help you, my child?" I knew enough of superstitious Muggle lore to know that fairy godmothers are generally supposed to offer help to their 'goddaughter'. I was trying to play it safe.

She started crying again. I had a leaky faucet once that I tried to fix by magic, but ended up making worse. I was flooded out of my house for two days. This Muggle girl reminded me forcibly of it.

She wailed out her tale: "I live with my stepmother and two stepsisters, who treat me like a slave. I'm underfed and poorly clothed and the rats in the basement are my only friends. I keep dreaming that someday I'll break free, but all that comes is work, work, work."

I wanted to say, "Silly kid, you have to make your own chances. Luck rarely does you any good. Trust me, I've had too much experience in it." But she rushed on before I could say so. Probably just as well - if she hadn't hurried I was going to be so late it wouldn't even be fashionable. And I so hoped to show off my dress robes to my friends.

"The prince has recently announced a royal ball for all unwed maidens in the kingdom. My stepsisters have gone, watched by my stepmother, and they've forced me to stay and scour out the basement. Oh, woe is me! I so want to go, it would be like a dream come true, but I cannot."

I stifled a yawn. 

"If only I had a dress, a carriage and shoes, then I could go, and be happy. I could live quite contentedly with such a happy memory to sustain me. Will you help me?"

I perked up. Sure, the girl seemed a bit ditzy, but I'm no fan of slave labour. Besides, this job sounded like it needed some Tranfiguration to me, and fortunately, that has always been one of my strongest points. Never mind that my work rarely lasts more than four hours. The girl expected me to help. The quicker I did it, the quicker I could get to _my_ party. I was bound, now.

I Tranfigured her dress first into a pretty shimmery purply-red thing that became her very well. I muttered the spell under my breath, and before the change became apparent, I said a few nonsense words loudly. No need to endanger our world more than it already was. I don't remember what the words were, exactly. I think they were something like, "Bibbety bobbity boo!" They sounded entertaining at the time.

I Tranfigured her shoes into pretty glass-like slippers, and then I was stumped. She was all dressed up, she had a place to go - but no way to get there. A horse and a carriage - what could I Tranfigure - "Do you grow pumpkins?"

They did, and a few moments later we were standing outside in front of a rather magnificent - if I do say so myself - carriage. Now for the horses.

I picked a pair of radishes and attempted to Transfigure them. I got mice. I tried to Transfigure the mice - they went back to radishes. Damn. I'd never really gotten the hang of progressive Transfiguration, more's the pity. I found some cucumbers. I got dogs. No, that wouldn't do. Then I remembered -

"Be a good girl and bring up two of your rat friends from the cellar," I suggested hopefully.

She was back in a trice. I Tranfigured them, and got two pure white, absolutely adorable Shetland ponies. Well, they'd have to do, even though I was trying for Clydesdales. I hitched them to the front of the carriage (or was it the back? Both ends looked the same to me. I'm not used to Muggle inventions) while the girl looked on. I was rather annoyed. No wonder she had so much work piled up if she was so lazy. But then I supposed it must be another of those things that fairy godmothers do for you.

I caught her back with a quick warning before she stepped up into the carriage. "The spell will not last forever," I told her. My voice almost cracked. Stupid fake fairy godmother voice. "You must be home before -" I discreetly checked my watch and calculated - eight o'clock now, so - "Midnight." More or less. If it was a little less, surely she'd have enough sense to get out quick. "Have fun at the ball."

She just beamed at me wordlessly. I felt like I'd done my Good Deed for the day.

But as nice as the feeling of accomplishment was, I felt I'd hung around long enough. Hasta la vista, 'goddaughter'. 

_Crack._

This time I Apparated in the middle of a cold, dark, snowy wasteland. "Oh, for Merlin's sake -" I was exasperated, and already freezing cold.

_Crack._

I Apparated in the middle of - guess where? The Sahara.

"Why _me_?" I yelled in disgust at the starry night sky. "I'm not the same old Nada! I'm a fairy godmother now, I'll have you know! I demand RESPECT!"

Yeah. As if.

*~*~*

A/N - This is the kind of story that young wizarding children grow up learning. Substantially different from the Muggle versions, eh? Lol. If you have any ideas of what fairy tale you'd like me to twist next, leave me your suggestion in a review or e-mail, the standard procedure. 

REVIEW! or I'll get Nada to hex you. Lol. That should be interesting.


	2. Rapunzel

A/N - Finally, an update! Cheer! Dance! Review some more!

Disclaimer - I own nothing. JK still hasn't let me borrow the Marauders. I promise I'd take good care of them, JK! I swears on Book #5!

*~*~*

I got a lot of grief over the 'ball incident' for a long time. Honestly, it wasn't _that_ amusing, was it? I'd like to see _them_ do better if _they_ were little more than Squibs. And the girl was a bit of an idiot, really, but I've always felt pity for stupid people. As this next episode in my ever-amusing life proves.

I had to move to Germany to get away from all the teasing, so I built my house in a nice, quaint backwater of a Muggle village, planted a garden and kept to myself. Well, mostly.

First mistake: moving to a Muggle village. The people in the village were way smarter than I gave them credit for. Someone apparently saw me flying in on my broomstick from visiting my aunt Minnie, and by the next morning, the whole village know. Stupid people kept coming by to gawk, even though they were terrified of me, so eventually in exasperation, I built an enormously high wall around my house and garden so I could have some much deserved privacy. Besides, I'd just got an import of Mandrakes, and I really didn't want the Muggles fooling with them.

My garden was very pretty, if I do say so myself, and I loved it dearly. Caring for plants, even magical ones, generally just takes knowledge and common sense - the perfect pursuit for someone who knows diddly-squat about complex spells.

All was pleasant for about ten years, until I woke up in the middle of the night to find that my Muggle neighbour had climbed the wall and was stealing some of my rampion, a highly addictive magical plant used frugally in healing potions. I managed to stop the man just as he moved out of my rampion row and was about to uproot a similar-looking Mandrake; luckily for him or the bloke would've been dead in seconds flat.

I must admit that I gave him a pretty explosive telling-off, but the poor man thought I was threatening him. Well, maybe telling him that if he fooled about in witches' gardens he'd be dead was a mistake in interpretation. He started weeping.

"Please," he cried. "It's not for me, it's for my wife. She says she will die without it!"

I considered giving him a hefty lecture about addictive plants, but as rampion is a pain-killer and I knew his wife was pregnant, I made the decision to let him have the rampion. I told him, however, that when the child was born they'd have to give it to me. A child born with FAMPS (fetal addiction to magical plants syndrome) would need immediate magical care or they'd die from withdrawal. But the details were quite technical, so I omitted them. My second big mistake. The man just thought I was stealing his soon-to-be-born kid for revenge. Sometimes I wonder, though, if he was being obtuse on purpose. Oh well. The end result was what mattered, wasn't it?

Apparently not. When the girl was finally born, both parents pleaded and wept and refused to let her go. I finally got them with the old, "D'you want your daughter to die? That's what'll happen if you don't let her go! I'll keep you in touch! She'll be safe with me!" And I said this all in reasonably clear German. Which was pretty amazing, considering. My German was horrid. It still is.

They gave her over to me, reluctantly, and I hurried to get the girl off to St. Mungo's. It ws farther than the German hospital, but frankly, I'm not very good with languages, especially German - all those harsh letter combinations and sounds like a cat coughing up a hairball. (Well, it's true!) Besides, I'm fairly well known at St. Mungo's.

The little girl, whom I named Rapunzel (I thought it was cute) spent the first two years of her life being rehabilitated from FAMPS. Poor kid. I visited her as much as possible, bringing her toys and food from her anxious parents. She seemed happy enough.

When I was finally able to bring her home, she seemed happy in my house, too. I tried to convince her to visit her parents, and she seemed happy there as well. Rapunzel was _always_ happy in her first years. One of the side affects of being born with FAMPS. It was a pleasure to raise such a happy child. Mostly. Sometimes, she got on my nerves. No one should be that happy _all_ the time.

And she wasn't. She stopped being cheerful and began sulking - oh, she must have been thirteen or so. I didn't think much of it at first. I thought it was just teenage hormones. I remembered what I had been like at that age (bloody horrible, to be honest) and tried to have patience.

But then she began to throw temper tantrums on a regular basis. I didn't know what to do. The girl was randomly destroying every object in my house. I tried to give her something else to think about, teaching her knitting and gardening and anything else I could think of. No luck. Surprise. I _never_ have any luck.

A week later she attempted to burn my house down in a fit of rage. Desperate, I wrote my friend, Morley 'Zip' Senss, a Mediwizard at St. Mungo's. He told me isolation was the best strategy.

Reluctantly, I hired a local dwarf to build a tower in the middle of the forest without an entrance or an exit except for a very high window. I flew Rapunzel up there on my broomstick, and left, feeling miserable.

Oh, I still visited the girl, naturally. I brought food and books and yarn for knitting and anything else she could possibly want. In spite of her faults, she was the only daughter I'd ever had. I even offered to talk with her parents, tell them she was fine, if slightly bored. Unfortunately, she was sulking again, and refused to have anything to do with me.

My tolerance with Muggles was about _this_ far from snapping. But then Rapunzel grew her hair out extremely long so I no longer had to use a broomstick. I can fly - generally about as well as I Apparate. I tried Apparating up once. Not a good result - I came out halfway up the outside of the tower. My cushioning spell worked a split-second too late. I was a month healing. 

I think it was during that time that Rapunzel got her hands on some Hair-Grow Potion. I don't know how she did it - maybe one of those travelling saleswizards. Anyways, climbing up her hair was so much easier than flying or Apparating up. (The German Ministry didn't understand my request to add the tower to the Floo Network. I asked Zip later, and he told me I'd mistakenly told them to bring me a purple cow. So _that's_ why the creature was eating my lettuce!) Rapunzel's thoughtfulness did much to restore my liking for Muggles.

This situation worked out fine for about a year. Then one day, out of the blue, Rapunzel said, "You should lose some weight, you know. You're so much more difficult to haul up than the prince."

My first reaction was sheer indignation. If there's one thing I hate, it's someone poking fun at my weight. 

"I - AM - NOT - FAT!" I fairly roared. I snatched up a pair of scissors and cut her hair off. "There! Isolation for a week! No Hair-Grow Potion! No visitors! You did the one thing that makes me angry, after all I've done for you!"

Then the second part of her words struck me. "A prince? Here? Is he nuts? Probably. Princes usually are." By this time Rapunzel was in tears.

I made a decision there. If a prince was coming to see my Rapunzel, and she was letting him come up, she was old enough to make her own decisions. She was, what - sixteen, seventeen? Old enough. I wasn't much older than her when I went to live on my own. I started trying to comfort her and get her to listen to me. I apologized for my spaz-out, and told her my proposition. She agreed, and we began packing her stuff up. Several hours later, she was hugging me good-bye (and crying again). I held the cutting of her hair out the window so she could climb down it with her pack. With a wrench in my soul, I watched her trot off into the evening. I might never see my girl again.

Shortly after, the prince showed up.

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!" he called. I hesitated, then let down the cuttings. It would be easier to explain what had happened when he couldn't run off.

But the prince totally freaked out when he saw me in place of his Rapunzel. I attempted to explain, but then he drew his sword on me.

I did not think he would try to kill me. I swear I was only defending myself when I hit him in the eyes with an absolutely perfect Conjuntivitus Curse I didn't even know I could perform. He yelled and screamed and blundered around. After several tries, I managed to Stun him. He was in grave danger of falling out the window.

I don't know how I managed to get the both of us out of the tower and onto the ground. I set off to the village, hoping to find someone to care for the prince until he didn't scream at the sight of me and I could finally explain. But when I returned with help, he was gone. Well. It was his choice.

The villagers now thought I was some kind of insane torturer, so in order to preserve what part of my battered reputation was still intact, I decided to move again. To France. I knew there was a nice wizarding village there somewhere.

I just hoped knowledge of my unfortunate Muggle run-ins hadn't preceded me.

*~*~*

A/N - REVIEW, or I'll get Nada to jinx you. Lol, if she can make it work. 

If you have any ideas at all, what story I can twist next, please review and tell me, or e-mail me. Please. I'm getting desperate for ideas. The Idea-Well has dried up. I cannot update until I come up with a new story. PLEASE HELP ME SAVE THIS FIC!


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